


Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy

by halest



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Academia, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF) - Freeform, Dream (Video Blogging RPF) - Freeform, Flirting, GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF) - Freeform, M/M, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF) - Freeform, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, dreamnotfound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28873470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halest/pseuds/halest
Summary: Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy - QueenA story with an academia core in an unknown city with harsh winters all year round. Poems and symphonies were written for one another, directly from the heavens, defining a new-found translation of romance. A one-sided and unstable, longing connection that soon meets the other end, the other person. A small spark waiting in a sacred place for something to cling to, to set fire and whole-heartedly destroy with every runaway amber caught unexpectedly in the flight of uncontrollable snowstorms.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	1. Broken radios

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter one summary: The beginning of the great solemn search for a definition and one of many harsh winter seasons yet to come. A car left unlocked in the first gentle fall of snow, bittersweet cafe visits and a repeating melody all too unpleasant.

Romance. A graceful poem and yet a horrible and destructive novel. The epitome of danger, the sacrifice of words, and the final freeing of butterflies. Interpret it how you must, but keep in mind that with age comes realisation. The mind's slow understanding of what romance means being one of those realisations. And in time, one must allow the soul to age and the mind to mature, and somehow, through all of the aching, things will seem so simple in the end.

The low, murky light of the late morning swept through a half-opened blind, reflecting its stripes onto a mix of surfaces. Clay’s eyes were sore, his body tired and his brain exhausted. He hummed silently in the still, opening his eyes carefully after a long night of thoughts intertwining, cautious of the blinding light ready to seep through his squinted eyelids. But he was only met with a blurred and dusty view of his wooden furniture, and a sprawled arm hanging over his bedside. 

The room looked foggy in a sense. The light that peeked into the compact room and onto his soft blankets was a warm yet gloomy sort of grey, signifying the mingling of seasons. It gave Clay a forgotten feeling of nostalgia, a moment to feel safe. Autumn and winter brushed against each other in tune to an old-fashioned dance, mimicking daring movements. It felt fitting to let his mind wander over the unusual thought.

He adapted to his senses of the new morning. A faint echo lurked in the room, the broken sound of his radio. The gentle playing of a piano poured from it in untimed and crackled beats. There was something tranquil in the atmosphere as if overnight, the world had completely shifted from its usual mayhem and disarray in the streets below. 

He could lay there forever, in the small room, watching the faded light waltz around his hardwood floor to different hours of the day and finally subside as it turns to the night. But he knows he can’t. Clay retracts his arm back under the too comfortable covers of his bed, using it to push his aching body to a sitting position. A few wavy strands of dirty-blonde hair fall to his forehead, brushing the tips of his eyelashes with grace. He sweeps them up with his hand. 

He gives his eyes time to adjust, his gaze soon caught by the black, off-screen of his monitors in the far corner. His thoughts once again get caught in a tide as he revisits the late nights he spent at the desk, his complete focus taken up by a series of games. Hours spent on calls with his friends, stupid jokes being tossed around, letting loud and genuine laughter fill the air. He wondered what they were doing in the unwonted quiet as of now. 

A bright light suddenly projects into the room revealing just how dim it had been moments ago. Clay rotated his body, shifting closer to the source, where his phone lay face-up, revealing a mass of notifications from various apps and people. He paid no attention to them, instead, glancing up at the clock that read ‘12:03’ in a large font. _How could it be so dark?_

He picks his focus from the phone up to the window above his bed, to peek through the open bands of the blinds in hopes of finding some sort of answer. He’s only met with the bleak and overcast weather the dreary sky has to offer. The clouds have lowered to the middle level of the tall buildings huddled closely together in the city view. _It might finally rain._ He imagined it all, the soft pattering on the rooftops, rolling down, to slowly collect on each window sill. Clay’s apartment was one of the top floors in the entire building, providing him with a complete view of the European city. It was peaceful to be away from the busy roads below.

Pushing the image away, a growing objective starts to sprout in his mind at the remembrance of how tired he was. He’d go somewhere. Maybe for coffee from an old cafe he used to visit often. A good excuse to get out of his apartment anyway. And from that, the plan was decided.

He slowly clambered out of his warm bed, pushing the mass of covers to hang over the side, letting them brush the floor. The radio still reverberated unintelligible lyrics in a quiet manner, making the process of getting ready to seem peaceful, as opposed to frustrating. 

Clay lazily moved to his drawer at the wall opposite his bed, dragging his feet with him. At random, he grabbed several items of clothing from the open drawers, not caring much for a matching outfit, but still, taking the unpredicted weather into account. He slipped a patterned, wool jumper over the top of his head, wiggling his arms through, and adjusting it around the white shirt underneath, warming up his body instantly. There was a lone pair of navy jeans sprawled across the surface of the drawer. He picked them up, attempting to put them on hastily, although only managing to trip multiple times. The mornings weren’t his most graceful of moments.

By the time he had unplugged his phone from the small desk beside his bed, and collected both his wallet and shoes, he began walking downstairs. Or rather, stumbling, as he struggled immensely to push the rest of his foot through the jean hole. An unstable echo of the broken radio could still be heard from the first floor, creating an eerie yet comfortable atmosphere. He often wondered if he would ever make a useless effort to fix the dulcet music or even, for that matter, turn it off entirely. 

The dull downstairs was made up of both his kitchen and living room, with windows scattered all about. It was far from modern-looking, besides the marble counter that separated the two supposedly separate rooms. Almost every piece of furniture was dark wood, accompanied by various types of plants, draping over the surfaces. Looking to the lounge sector, he judged the tall stacks of DVDs, music discs, and vinyl’s, surrounding his TV, he had been meaning to sort ever since he first moved in. The dark lighting that poured through the windows only added to the dusty feel of the apartment. One of his flat’s main features he seemed to find interesting was the miniature chandelier hanging above the sitting area. With a flick, he turned on their lights, emitting a warm orange light. It flooded throughout the space, stopping at the bottom of the staircase. Its glow generated a sensation of security.

Before Clay could reach a point in his thoughts too deep to resurface from, he hears a soft shuffling on the counter in front of him, guiding his mind back. He peers up to meet the curious eyes of his tabby cat, Patches. She meows quietly, trodding about before leaping quietly to the floor. He kneels to pet her, deciding he would feed her when he got back. Besides, he wouldn’t be out for too long.

He watched her as she swayed from the kitchen to the cramped cosiness of his living room, brushing past his legs as she went, finding comfort on one of the pillow-covered sofas. Sometimes, Clay wished he could lay in bed for each hour of the day and going into the night. Not that he didn’t, but lay in the pure easement, without the stress or worry of responsibility. He knew he might let his mind get caught up in another storm of thought. Pushing it away from his brain, he focused on the present and in finding his keys. 

He locates them on the top surface of a cabinet near the front door. He exits it slowly, the creaking in its hinges prominent. He made sure to be careful not to slam it too hard on the way out. Admittedly, Clay expected the outside windows to be lighter than the glare carelessly projected into his apartment room, but it remains the same. Even looking down the long, neverending staircase, the bottom only resembles a deep murky ocean with no foundation. It sends shivers down his spine, letting his legs unconsciously walk him to the direction of the elevators.

Clay had lived in the apartment for too many years now. He had no reason to move out, no connections anywhere else, nothing pulling him to travel or getaway. Even having the cities streets carved into his mind and roads etched into muscle memory, he never got bored of the sights, the people, or routes. He felt as though he hadn’t found himself quite yet. To his surprise, after the years of making videos on youtube, streaming on twitch, editing, and meeting so many new creators and friends, something still remained, that lingered in an incomplete silence.

It wasn’t until Clay was met with another, unmistakably larger, source of light from the open lobby, had he realized that large rain droplets were beginning to collide and collect on the windows, making muffled, light pattering sounds. He felt drawn to it, wanting to feel the pure rain slide down his skin after being so deprived of it.

He began to exit through the automatic doors, breathing in the clear air that wafted so strongly into his chest. The rain showered, softly at first, onto his face, caressing his cheeks and dripping to his neck. It was refreshing beyond belief, despite how miserable and grim it looked today. It gave Clay an unexpected shiver, causing him to mindlessly pull his sleeves further over his numbing hands. 

The shop he had his mind set on could have been walked to but, in all honesty, he didn’t quite fancy the notion of being soaked when he arrived back home. To his fortune, his car was parked directly opposite the flat building’s street. He swiftly crossed the road, hands in pockets, watching out for stray cars. 

The inside of the car was cold, his seats freezing to the touch. Not even his blasting heater could thaw the frost rapidly growing on his windshield. It spread to his own body. In an attempt to distract himself from the nearly unbearable chill, he pressed the radios on-button, hoping for a decent enough station to play.

A mellow tune emitted from the speaker. It too sounded broken, much like the one in his room. Having nothing better to do while he drove slowly through the rainy traffic, he tried to decipher the static lyrics. It wasn’t a song he recognised.

_Oversharing and its bitter aftertaste._

_Exactly the wrong time in exactly the wrong place._

_Save it for a rainy day-_

The only words he managed to make out changed his impression of the song. It became a tragic melody. Still, soothing to the ear despite the depressing weather messing with its already poor signal. 

Clay wished they didn't, but the lyrics stuck in his head the whole way to the coffee shop. It's as if they were supposed to mean something to him. In a sense they did, speculating more as he stared nervously at the entrance door. The small building radiated warm and safe energy while spewing the nostalgic scent of coffee and cinnamon. 

He revisited lost memories of bringing different people for company here, years ago. _Oversharing._ More than he ever should have. He knows that now. He attempts, with all his might, to let the recollections go, to go get lost in a storm somewhere. His brain becomes slightly fuzzy and an odd taste is left in his mouth at the unwanted pondering. _Bitter._

When Clay had finally opened the door gently to the cafe, setting off a familiar _ding_ as he did, he began to feel calmer, more comfortable in the fire of the laughter and soft chatter within. He hadn’t even noticed that the weather had worsened in seconds, a downpour roaring outside. The overhead clouds darkened, limiting the light entering the shop. Yet the scattered, miniature light bulbs and enticing scenery managed to distract him.

He brought his entranced gaze to the countertop where a couple of friendly faces stood chatting, waiting for new orders and greeting customers. Clay already had his order in mind, having come here many times before, although avoiding it for a while. He thinks back to the song playing on his car speaker as he steps up to the till, being cheerfully welcomed in. He faintly hears one of the people ask the typical question.

“A vanilla latte,” he says confidently, mind still elsewhere. He doesn’t quite listen to what the cashier says back but hands her a five-pound note in return. Clay finds himself in a trance, surveying the image beyond the windows now, admiring the heavy storm in annoyance.

He waits by the end of the counter, still observing everything he could, letting his mind wander freely. It was lulling to see the fairly large amount of people all in their own separate worlds. Overthinking, focusing, simply relaxing in one of the sofa seats. Countless amounts of lives all under the same roof, under the comfort and safety of a shop, enjoying a late morning coffee or snack, together without knowing or comprehending. 

“Here you go, sir.”

Clay spins round, meeting the face of the same cashier lady who served him moments ago. He muttered thanks, taking a few sips of the relatively hot drink. It warmed him immediately, thawing the cold that lay idle his body. He stayed there for a bit, gently resting upon one of the walls, wanting to enjoy the heat a little more before returning into the lashing rain. As he gazed out once again, investigating the escalating commotion, he stopped and stiffened in confusion. It wasn’t raining anymore. 

_It was snowing?_

He heard a few excited gasps from behind him, the chatter beginning to increase. He wanted to laugh, relieved at the beautiful and unfamiliar sight, except he knew the snow would only worsen. Clay resumed drinking his coffee, abruptly feeling less tired and in a way, more hopeful.

He pulled out his phone from his pocket, letting the dimmed light illuminate his face, projecting the time. It read 1:34. _Best to head back soon._

Clay held the cup close to his body as he brought himself straight up from his leaning position, praying the warmth would stay within him on his drive home. On his way out, pushing the frostbitten, glass door, the bell above him made the same sound, signifying his leave.

But, when the man gazed ahead, he saw only the road, passing cars driving faster than normal. It was the exact opposite of when he had woken just an hour prior. There was mild chaos in the streets, people running about to acquire shelter, careful not to get caught in the snow, and finally, in Clay’s chest. It rose rapidly, taking control of his limbs, making him more numb than the cold did. Panic flushed his face. His car wasn’t there.

“You’re fucking jokin-” he stopped mid-sentence, cursing at the scene, rubbing his jaw and chin with frozen fingers. _What the hell am I gonna do._ He couldn’t do much besides stand there, feeling awkward in the frantic city. He was too pissed to care. Too pissed at himself and the terrible, striking weather that flipped the world around in an instant. How could he have not remembered to lock the car?

He attempted to calm himself, placing his chilled hand back into the protection of his jumper pocket and evaluating the scene. Looking up, the clouds intimidated the large city, they were dark and clumped together, the top of the buildings erased from view, caught up in the beginning of a long winter. Snow gently fell onto his clothes, its catastrophic beauty mocking him and his stupidity. 

Clay took a deep breath, an improvised idea entering his mind. He fiddled with his phone, struggling more than he thought to take it back out his pocket. A few taps later, he pressed the sharp and frigid screen to the side of his face, a vague ringing surging into his ear.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was kind of rushed but hope u enjoy x


	2. Ink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay receives a familiar help in his lost and unlucky positioning of the first downfall. Afternoon calls and a faint realization trickling into view while the storm only increases, swallowing his distant and unrecognized emotions whole, spitting them back out with a trace of poison.

“Dude, how did you even manage that?” The amused voice of his friend, Nick, seeped through the phone. His tone was laced lightly with concern, despite finding the situation plain ‘funny’ as he had put it. 

Clay only pinched the bridge of his nose in visible irritation, “I told you, I was distracted.” He heard a burst of gentle laughter erupt from the other side of the line at the hesitant response. _Utter dickhead_ , he thought to himself.

“Well,” Nick began again, at last taking the seriousness of the circumstances into his regards, “Find somewhere to go, for now, I won’t be able to get there as quick.” It was understandable, given the sudden rotation of seasons. The snow, even as it fell so slowly, was beginning to fill the roads. 

“Alright,” Clay responded in his usual skeptical manner, “Text me when you’re here.” With that, he hung up the phone with a shaky finger, watching the screen instantly switch back to his contacts list, brightening the front of his features. He allowed his eyes to flicker over his most recent calls, reading the favourited names. His scan paused, his eyes analyzing over one name in particular. _George_. Should he ask how he’s coping with this unforeseen forecast? Or at least leave a text to inform his other friend about the situation? He doesn’t overthink it, instead deciding to follow Nick's advice. Focusing primarily on finding an overhead.

The snow resting upon his clothes and hair had already melted, piercing droplets either soaking up or trickling down his skin. He reflects over the chat he and his friend had. Nick, being his best-mate and dearest friend for years, has always stuck by his side, and in return, so has he. The two of them, even while living so close, plan to move in together one day. Perhaps somewhere bigger.

He watched the destructive scene unravel before him, serene snowflakes falling with complete ease and unbothered grace. He knew their foul trick. The mischievous mind of a dropping climate. Clay had seen the inceptions of storms much like this. It would only intensify, restricting the everyday freedoms, unknowingly taken for granted.

A loud car horn awoke him from his chilling daydreams. He brought his stare to the source, seeing the warming face of his friend Nick waving him toward the car, wanting him to hurry. He jogged across the road, leaving the shelter of the small overhang behind him, a few snowflakes managing to latch onto his jumper as he did. His legs felt unbearably numb, the jeans he wore slowly being dampened. 

“C’mon, dude,” Nick began, blowing hot breath into his hands, “It’s freezing.” Clay nearly slammed the door, wanting to preserve as much warmth as he could.

“Try standing in it for the next twenty minutes,” Clay countered back, a numb grin forming on his face. He truly appreciated the simple yet unusually kind gesture of his friend. Nick’s whole appearance looked disheveled. Clay judged by the messiness of his brown hair that he had most likely woken up his friend with the call.

The two sat in silence for a moment, glancing out frosted windows every so often, eyeing the havoc that grew momentarily. 

“So, how was it?” Nick had asked him, putting a hold on the comfortable quiet. His question confused Clay.

“What?” Clay asked.

“The café,” Nick began, recklessly brushing the topic, “I haven’t seen you go back in months.”

The blonde sighed deeply, shifting awkwardly in his slowly warming seat. He merely shrugged, “Something changed, I guess?” 

“Well, I hope it’s a good thing.”

Clay hoped too. Something had changed in the city, so drastically but went entirely unnoticed, like the last piece of the puzzle that purposefully goes missing. He doesn’t understand his sudden change of mind, to choose that coffee shop above all others in the city, regardless of the awful memories. So for now, he remains stuck on a puzzle.

They spoke no more on the matter. Instead, finding easy conversation adrift in the air. They rambled on, sharing and catching up on what they cannot during calls.

Time had passed peacefully. Soon enough, Clay shook out of the thought at the sound of car tires hitting a familiar bump in the road. He leaned forward in his seat, trying to take in the whole view of the building, spotting his windows on the top floor. He thanked his friend briefly, receiving a tired yet still amused nod and remark back. 

The piercing cold hit his clothes, instantly forming miniature icicles that began stabbing into his skin. He curled his arms around himself, attempting to create heat as the two friends shared their goodbyes. He rushed into the building, a comforting wave of warmth melting the collected snow almost immediately. 

It felt like a race to the top, his mind focused entirely on the soft material of his blankets, the welcoming scents, and the warm scenery awaiting him. Several minutes later, managing to outrun the nearing frostbite, he reached his wooden door, resting against it to briefly catch his breath. His eyes followed naturally to the scratched doorknob.

Clay jammed his keys in messily, creating a few new scratches. The door unlocked momentarily, flying open with the weight of his stiff body. Relieved and tired, he slammed it from behind, dropping his belongings onto the small table. The loud clattering and stumbling must have attracted Patches.

Looking down at the sudden soft touch, he smiled gently, preparing to feed her as he promised. _Poor thing_ , he merely mumbled. He clambered through the lower cupboards, taking out the food and preparing it as usual. 

Soon later, the chill air had started to evaporate, allowing the warmth of the apartment to take over his body. It felt beyond comforting, hearing a slow, static, and on-going beat trickle from upstairs, its beat bouncing on each step till it reached the hardwood floor of his kitchen. It again reminded him of some sort of dance shared between two people, connected, in every way possible. It created a low boiling of emotions to rumble, like the beginnings of the storm increasing outside.

Clay began dragging his feet up the stairs as if lured by his loose imagination to something so simple. It was sure to mean nothing to the man, but he couldn’t help lingering in the easement of his head. The scene played out, two unknown silhouettes matching motions, rising and falling, skin against skin. They could dance forever in his brain, it was something he wanted. Deeply.

He found himself positioned in the center of his room, out of focus, swaying slightly, captured by his entrancing radio once again. Clay felt quite literally stuck, so trapped in a portion of life he was sure he’d never be able to have. He longed for it all. Wanting to share the silence in his room with someone.

The stupidity of his current state came back to slap his fragile being. There was no point in moping around, minute after minute, letting loneliness gradually capture his serenity.

He soon found himself facing an immediately recognizable, idle screen. He reached his arm to turn it on, making his way closer to the desk, setting his tired self down in the comfortable seat. A weight had been lifted, shoulders sagging and muscles un-tensing. His head still ached but the thrill the bright, loading bar gave him allowed it to subside for the time being. 

Briefly, apps and windows began to heap in, overlapping each other. Notifications dinged rapidly through his headset, one after the other. He checked, seeing numerous numbers from Discord. His eyes grazed over the multiple DMs, mostly requests, invites, questions, and a couple of finished-off conversations from previous days.

A small, consoling picture at the top of the window caught his eye, filling him with an enjoyable comfort. There was a message from George, another one of his friends. He opened it swiftly, interested if he had missed anything in particular.

 _I’m streaming, join_. It had been sent an hour ago, around the time the harsh snow-fall had started. It brought Clay's thoughts back into question, forcing him to peer his head round, gazing out the window above his bed frame. Even only just being able to see the top of streets, it was obvious snow had covered the entirety of the city. It still fell, bringing hazardous commotion alongside it, as silent as it may be. His focus dashed back to the monitor. George would still be live. He opened the server icon, scrolling through various voice channels, glancing at familiar names, until the two he was searching for passed by.

He clicked and waited, hearing the sudden eruption loud nonsense chatter in his headset, having joined in the middle of a random conversation. It took only a few seconds until his friends had noticed his presence, “DREAM, HELP.” 

He was taken aback at the instantaneous sound pouring through to his ears. He winced at the noise, a grin spreading unintentionally on his face.

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU, GEORGE,” the equally-as-loud voice burst out. It had come from Nick, or as the username read, Sapnap, who he had seen only moments before. Clay guessed he must’ve joined moments before himself, after arriving home. 

Clay let out a short but entirely amused laugh, “What is happening?” His answer was followed by the blaring squeals and snickers emitting from both his friends. He watched the green circles traced around their profile pictures flicker now and then, still wheezing at the scene.

“Dream, get on and ban Sapnap,” George jokingly ordered, cheerful but clearly irritated. He did so, opening the launcher and joining the server shortly.

The three of them continued to play, the minutes turning into hours, laughter never faltering for even an instant. Flawless jokes passed through one another with pure easement. The company of his friends was always a joy to him, it allowed him to forget most of the longing he felt in between calls or streams. It allowed him to feel alive amid the on-going wreck. 

“Alright, I’m probably going to end here,” came the slowing voice of George. He could hear a faint ounce of tiredness trickling into his friend’s speech. Clay tabbed out of the game, letting his sensitive eyes flash to the bottom of his screen. It was nearing into the night now. 

“Jesus, where did that time go,” he responded, feeling his voice begin to ache.

Sapnap yawned along with them, letting out a still-loud, “No idea.”

“Well,” George spoke again, “Bye everyone, hope you enjoyed the stream!” He said, piling in the last gram of excitement he could. 

“Bye George’s chat, I love you more than he does,” He added in quickly, earning a small laugh from Nick.

“Oh shut up, Dream,” he spat back, hilarity remained, lightly laced into his words. 

Before Clay could re-address his own, caught up in a loud wheeze drowning out his thoughts, he countered with a typical, “I bet you'd like to do that.” He stopped instantly at the action. Not even he expected that.

Sapnap bellowed out, finding it entirely humorous. Clay was grateful for this, somehow worried at least someone would only take the seriousness out of the joke. Was there any seriousness? The group was always making flirtatious remarks. Who would find this any different?

“He probably would if he had the chance,” Sapnap let out between uncontrollable laughter. He heard George emit a soft laugh, followed with a small, “Oh my God.”

Clay felt odd at both his friend's replies, his stomach reacting with a miniature jolt. It had been a long and unusually confusing day. The weather must be messing with his head somehow, although he was naturally tired.

“Okay, I’m ending now,” He followed up, huffing out at the end of his sentence. Seconds later, a small click sounded through the call, signifying George had done so.

It was plain to hear the three were unmistakably fatigued. For now, a comfortable silence lingered between green rings. Until Sapnap’s lit up, “We should do something tomorrow.”

“What about the snow?” Clay pointed out, no one responded, the problem insight. 

“We’ll figure it out later, I guess,” Sapnap responded after about a minute, yawning once more, “Talk to you guys tomorrow.”

The remaining shared and tossed around their goodnights, ultimately hearing a small _ding_ at his leave. It was just the two of them now. Clay wasn’t uncomfortable but he felt something uneasy growing. Maybe his mind was still stuck on the storm. 

“I’m gonna head out as well,” George declared.

“Night,” he followed up, almost disappointed at his anticipated sentence.

 _Ding_.

Clay left shortly after, closing all of his open icons. He reminisced on the last few hours of his day, catching himself smiling at the memory of the mindless jokes made. He unconsciously brought himself up from his chair, stretching his back and legs. They brought him to his bed, sleep seeming to be the only reasonable thing to do at the moment. As he clambered in, wrapping his cold body in the sheets, his senses spiked another time.

The very same, low tune spiraled into the dark of his room, reminding him of his previous morning, waking up to a calming piano in the dust of the hidden sun. He picked up a similar image back into his head, appearing printed on the inside of his eyelids. The two silhouettes. They danced once more to a mismatched theme, like a stop-motion picture, flashing before Clay. This piano’s song was slightly more upbeat, but the pair remained on time, movements evermore increasing. The print stained the whites of his eyes, ink leaking into his brain as his thoughts began to stagger in time. His breaths calmed, syncing to the background pulse of the two partners who endured in each other's grasps. Everything that began clouding into a storm seemingly simmered into a paused void, waiting to resume at the next wakening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long to write I've only just found motivation. i'll try to start publishing every one-two weeks like I initially said I would xx


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